If I Had A Nickel For Every Time I Heard That
by OrangePlum
Summary: After sitting next to some speakers at a concert, America has trouble hearing the next day at a conference. But it's not so much his hearing that is the problem, but his loud voice. He's sure to embarrass a lot of people, England almost exclusively.


Author's Notes: Oh gosh, kill me for all the capitalizing. Sorry for this weird and pointless oneshot. I just wanted to try to write something more lighthearted since everything has been so heavy recently.

I have actually sat next to speakers at a concert... I talked like this for a day straight. It was very embarrassing 'cause I had school and stuff. lol

Enjoy.

* * *

"WHAT?"

"I said get your fucking girth off my foot!" demanded Romano, flailing painfully and shoving at the American in front of him who was eyeing him owlishly. America put his hand to his ear with a smile at the shrieking Italian.

"I'M SORRY. WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?"

"I said get off my foot, you fat oaf!" growled Romano, hands pushing heatedly at the broad chest in front of him. America laughed cheerfully.

"YOU WANT SOME MEATLOAF? ISN'T IT A LITTLE EARLY FOR THAT SORT OF FOOD? IT'S BARELY BREAKFAST TIME!"

Romano seethed, face dancing with many shades of angry red at America's sheer stupidity. Hazel eyes glanced over to his brother Italy who was walking by without a care in the world. He stuck his hand out to him.

"Fratello! Pull my arm!"

Italy looked at his brother in confusion, stopping his aimless wandering. "What are you talking about? Why must I pull your arm?" he smiled.

"Just pull it! I can't move," he growled desperately, reaching past America for his brother's help. "This fucking hamburger bastard won't move. This is my only chance to–"

"OOH. YOU WANT TO _DANCE_!" America said in understanding. He grinned at the horrified Italian in front of him before he gripped at his hands carelessly. "YOUR CONSTANT MOVING MAKES SENSE NOW. WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY SO EARLIER, BRO? I'M A LITTLE RUSTY, BUT I THINK I HAVE TIME TO SHOW YOU MY MOVES BEFORE THE MEETING."

Despite angry protests falling on deaf ears, Romano was carried around the room by the cheerful blonde singing "Funky Town."

Italy watched in confusion, the spectacle out of the ordinary from usual conferences, when he sensed someone stepping beside him. He looked over his shoulder at England, the Briton furrowing his brow distastefully at the loud spectacle.

"What in the name of God…" he winced when America started singing the particularly high notes, Romano looking about ready to chew his own arms off (or bite at America's face) when he was dipped. England looked at Italy who smiled at him.

"America is teaching brother to dance," he announced merrily. England pursed his lips, looking from Italy to America and Romano before back to Italy. He opened his mouth to say something before shaking his head and walking past them into the conference room.

"I don't even want to know."

Ten minutes later the doors burst open, a wiry and fuming brunette livid in the doorway. He scowled and marched into the room, looking positively embarrassed. At least twelve people had seen that horrid encounter with America in the hall before he managed to get one hand free and punch the tall blonde in the gut. He moved past England into his own seat, punching Spain's face when he started to comment about how cute he looked dancing.

America came in a moment later, holding a brand new cup of coffee and three doughnuts. He munched on them with a smile, waltzing in and taking his usual seat at the end of the table. He looked at his brother and France who were sitting beside him and flashed a grin.

"MORNING, GUYS! HOW'RE YOU DOIN' TODAY?" he asked, crumbs flying from his mouth. France winced at the volume of America's voice and wiped off the food particles from his lovely shirt with a grimace.

"Bonjour à vous aussi, Amérique. My, you are a lively one today," France greeted, resting his chin in his palm and raising a pristine eyebrow with a smile towards the munching American. America grinned and took a gulp from his coffee.

"THAT'S GREAT! I CAN'T WAIT TO SEE THAT MOVIE EITHER."

France looked confused for a moment before laughing. "Ah, that is American humor, no? Very refreshing."

Canada looked at his brother oddly and tugged on France's sleeve. "I don't think he was–"

"HEY, HAVE YOU SEEN MY NOTES BY ANY CHANCE? I LEFT THEM SOMEWHERE BUT I CAN'T FIND THEM. I THINK I LOST THEM SOMETIME BETWEEN GOING DOWN THAT WATERSLIDE AND SEEING THAT GUY ON THE STREET CORNER SPIT FIRE FROM HIS MOUTH."

"Would you stop your shouting?" England asked with clenched teeth, plugging his ears. "Everyone is two bloody feet away. We can hear you just fine without you screaming in our ears."

America turned towards England with a tilt of his head. "HUH? WHAT'D YOU SAY, ENGLAND?"

England winced before blowing a rough spout of air through his nose. "I said that you need to zip your lips. First you start flexing and showing off after your body developed, now you have to go spouting nonsense at the top of your lungs because you think your voice is like an angels," the Briton muttered sarcastically rolling his eyes.

America laughed and patted England's arm appreciatively. "OF COURSE WE CAN'T HAVE SEX RIGHT NOW! WE'RE IN A MEETING, SILLY. YOU'RE ALWAYS RANDY WHEN YOU NEED TO BE WORKING." America leaned over to nudge France in good humor. "BRITS, AM I RIGHT?"

England's face erupted like one of Spain's tomatoes, looking up as many eyes were following this loud display at the end of the table. France hummed to himself and smiled at England with dark amusement.

"I wholeheartedly agree."

America looked at France in confusion. "NO, I DON'T HAVE GANGGREEN. WHY WOULD YOU ASK ME THAT OUT OF THE BLUE?"

Canada, France, and England (as well as many other nations sitting at the table) looked at America in bewilderment.

"Are you feeling alright?" England asked cautiously, narrowing his eyes in suspicion towards the blonde American.

"YOU'RE FLYING A KITE?"

England shook his head, leaning in to whisper in America's ear. Though, it was louder than whisper should have been– he was actually screaming in his ear.

"ARE YOU FEELING _ALRIGHT_?" England asked, making sure to annunciate every syllable.

America leaned back and smiled carefully at the somewhat worried Briton, waving him off easily. "I'M FINE! MY HEARING'S JUST A LITTLE BIT OFF BECAUSE I HAD SOME BOGUS SEATS AT A CONCERT LAST NIGHT. THEY PUT ME RIGHT NEXT TO THE SPEAKERS! HAHA, WHAT ASSHOLES! BUT DON'T WORRY, I CAN STILL PRESENT TODAY. I'LL JUST HAVE TO REMEMBER NOT TO GO TO ANYMORE SCREAMO CONCERTS WHEN I HAVE WORK THE NEXT DAY. IS THAT ALRIGHT?"

England frowned, sticking his finger in his ear and wincing. "I suppose," he grumbled. There wasn't really much he could do about it now. The damage was done (to America's ears in particular). "Just be prepared. You're presenting next."

America's cheeks lit up as he ruffled England's hair affectionately. "AGAIN WITH THE SEX. I TOLD YOU ALREADY, I'LL BE SURE TO SATISFY YOU WHEN THE MEETING'S OVER."

England sputtered, watching France look about ready to split with the grin peeling on his lips. "Wh–!"

"DON'T WORRY, DON'T WORRY. YOU DON'T HAVE TO LOOK SO EMBARRASSED. IT'S NOT LIKE I'M GOING TO TELL ANYONE YOU LIKE TO CRY AND SPOON AFTERWARDS. I STILL THINK THAT'S A LITTLE WEIRD… YOU SHOULD GET THAT CHECKED BY A DOCTOR."

England looked absolutely mortified when the room became silent, all eyes burning holes into his skin. Canada shook his head and buried his face into his bear's fur. That was certainly more information than he needed to know.

America glanced at his watch quickly, not even noticing the humiliation in the Briton beside him (torn between strangling America and throwing himself out of the window), standing up from his chair quickly. "OH, LOOK AT THE TIME. LOOKS LIKE I'M UP," he grinned, licking the remaining glaze from his fingertips and patting England's shoulder. England went rigid, unable to do anything else.

America strolled up to the podium with a whistle, swerving on his feet and clasping his hands on both sides of the wooden stand.

"GOOD MORNING NEW YORK CITY! ARE YOU READY TO GET YOUR KNOWLEDGE ON!"

* * *

It was usually hard to listen to America talk at conferences, but this superseded unbearable. America wasn't prone to being quiet, but that certainly gave him no excuse to scream at people. Halfway through his speech people started to complain, clasping their hands over their ears to block out the boisterous voice reigning down like needles from the sky.

Germany had attempted to cut America off and move to another speaker, but that really hadn't gone well. He ended up conceding and sitting back down when the words "you wear women's clothes when you're alone?" left America's mouth. No matter how false (believe him! It was a _false_ statement!), Germany hadn't liked America's misinterpretation of his words, nor the scrutinizing and painfully judging eyes looking at him.

An hour later and the whole room had nearly been full of the blood leaking from everyone's ears.

"AND SO THAT'S WHY WE ALL NEED TO PULL TOGETHER TO GET ME SOME CASH. YOU KNOW WHAT THEY SAY; WHEN AMERICA'S POOR, SO ARE YOU!" America grinned, eyes scoping out the expanse of dead looking nations. "THAT'S ALL I HAVE TO SAY ABOUT THAT. MAKE LOVE, NOT WAR!" he finished, holding up his hands with peace signs.

Germany was nearly foaming at the mouth, shoving ripped pieces of paper in his ears when Austria nudged him into coherency. Germany jumped, looking startled a moment, before he looked around. "He's done…? He's done?" he asked hopefully, removing the paper from his ears.

Clearing his throat and straightening his tie he moved up to the podium as America went back to his seat. "Uh… We should– there will be a fifteen minute intermission."

There was a spontaneous sigh into the room in relief as many nations scattered outside to find some quiet and solitude for a moment. All the while America sat back in his chair obliviously, bouncing around in excitement.

"DUDE, I ACTUALLY THINK THAT WAS MY BEST SPEECH YET."

France leaned away from America with a look of displeasure. "Votre voix est très de départ pour m'ennuyer."

Canada nodded, standing up to get some fresh air. That is, air fresh of America's voice.

England casually sat back in his chair, the only person in the room who didn't look like they were getting a raging headache.

"And why do you look so at ease, hm?" France asked, his tone unconsciously seeping with a sense of jealousy. England merely yawned into his hand and straightened his notes.

"I suppose that is the one advantage to having spent majority of my time with the boy. I am immune to his voice," he smirked, completely satisfied with the foul look France and a few other lingering nations shot him. Well haha! Finally having to put up with America being so loud and rambunctious finally paid off.

"HEY, ENGLAND," America spoke up, politely tugging at England's shirt to get his attention. The Englishman cast green eyes to America who was smiling at him.

"Yes, America?"

"I FORGOT TO ASK IF THAT CREAM I GAVE YOU EVER CLEARED UP YOUR RASH?"

England stiffened. France suddenly looked like he tolerated the decibels of America's mouth once more and leaned in.

"Rash?" he asked coyly.

"DID IT WORK? YOU KNOW, FROM WHEN YOU HAD ME OVER AND TRIED TO COOK SOMETHING. REMEMBER? I GOT FOOD POISONING AND IT GAVE YOU A RASH. YOU REMEMBER, RIGHT? IT'S NOT GIVING YOU PROBLEMS ANYMORE, IS IT–"

England clasped his hands over America's mouth, hissing angrily. "I don't have a rash!" he protested, looking up towards Ukraine in embarrassment as she walked by.

America tried speaking through England's hands, the sound coming out muffled, but at the same pitch his voice usually did. "It's better right? I saw you squirming around when I was giving my presentation so it's only natural I'd be concerned."

"Belt up, you sodding moron!" England cried.

"Mon dieu, how unsightly," France grinned, snickering at England's dimay. "Your cooking is certainly getting progressively worse, isn't it?"

England pulled his hands away from America's mouth in order to try and leap across the table and strangle the cocky Frenchman who shrieked.

America watched the two fight with confusion before he sat up and spotted his good friend Japan across the room. He beamed and raced over towards him.

"HEY, JAPAN! HOW'VE YOU BEEN? I HAVEN'T SEEN YOU PROPERLY SINCE THE LAST TIME I CAUGHT YOU KISSING THAT ROBOT THING OF YOURS. MAN, TECHNOLOGY HAS GONE PRETTY FAR HUH? THOSE ROBOT GIRLS ARE STARTING TO LOOK REAL."

Japan stiffened with horror, seeing the room's attention focus on him.

"You make out with your inventions?" Switzerland asked skeptically. Japan's eyes widened, looking at his friend with horror.

"America-san, you said you'd never tell!" he protested in embarrassment.

America raised an eyebrow. "I CAN'T MAKE A SELL?" He laughed suddenly. "I KNOW WHO CAN, THOUGH. RAZOR COMPANIES. POLAND'S GOING TO BUY THEM ALL OUT CAUSE I WALKED IN ON HIM SHAVING HIS LEGS ONCE."

"I don't, like, shave my legs!" Poland denied, crossing his arms in denial.

"You shave your legs?" Lithuania asked, eyeing his friend in surprise. Poland flushed nervously.

"I said that I totally didn't!"

"That's almost as weird as Japan getting to second base with his machines," Prussia cackled, propping his boots up against the conference table. Japan looked mortified before frowning at America.

"You weren't supposed to tell," he told the blonde. America tilted his head.

"HUH? WHAT'D YOU SAY?"

Japan frowned deeper.

"I don't shave my legs!" Poland huffed, batting away Lithuania quickly to shove at America. "Stop spreading lies!"

"Yes, they're spreading as fast as Angleterre's rash," France spoke, yelping when England pulled at his hair.

"Why are you still talking? No one wants to hear you speak!" England growled.

Upon seeing Poland and Japan looking displeased at him, America looked nervously between the two. "AW MAN, I SAID SOMETHING I SHOULDN'T HAVE, HUH? IT'S MOMENTS LIKE THESE I WISH I WERE LIKE GERMANY. HE'S GOOD AT SMOOTHING OVER A SITUATION. LIKE WHEN HE ACCIDENTALLY MISTOOK ROMANO FOR ITALY AND GAVE HIM A BIG OL' KISS. HE'S SURE GOOD AT KEEPING _THAT_ SITUATION IN CHECK."

"Ve…" Italy looked confused, glancing towards Germany who looked about ready to faint.

Spain looked awestruck, eyes wide and disbelieving when looking at the apprehensive Italian next to him. Romano shot up in his seat, hands slamming down against the tabletop in stubborn denial.

"Liar!"

"You kissed brother, Germany?" Italy asked. Germany's face exploded like fireworks on the Fourth of July, fidgeting nervously. Prussia sat up upon hearing that, amusement drained.

"You kissed that brat, West?" he demanded. "Why are you goin' around kissing people? I thought you were a prude!"

"Japan isn't," giggled Taiwan towards the Asian. Japan shook his head.

"Please, I do not deserve this ridicule."

"I don't shave my legs!"

"Germany kissed you? Why did you let him do that? You used to be so cute and defenseless – where did my little Romano go?"

"Bite me!"

"Apparently West already did. That's not cool at all! You told me no, but you'll kiss the wonder twins over there?"

"Don't forget about Angleterre's rash!"

"Shut up!"

As the room erupted into a fray of arguments and crude gestures, America stood by and watched without a sound. He looked about the many faces, all of which had their mouths moving at rapid speeds. He couldn't hear anything but for a ringing in his ears. Hm. What was going on?

England prodded at his chest with a flushed face, frowning all the while. Japan tugged at his arm unhappily while Germany tried to wriggle out of his brother's hold, avoiding Italy's perplexed eyes.

America smiled to himself and laughed. "MAN, YOU GUYS ARE SO LOUD."

All the while everyone stopped to scream in accusing unison, "Speak for yourself!"

Silence was golden indeed.


End file.
